


The Angel Who Did Not Burn, and The Demon Who Did Not Drown

by ReapersAngel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Wings, Angel/Demon Relationship, Disclaimer: Credits to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and BBC, Drabble, Further Disclaimer: And Amazon Prime too, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s01e06 The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives, Post-Series, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReapersAngel/pseuds/ReapersAngel
Summary: What if that was Crowley in the bathtub of holy water, and Aziraphale in the vortex of hellfire? Of course they survived, but how?Edited October 7, 2020
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	The Angel Who Did Not Burn, and The Demon Who Did Not Drown

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I had when I first watched Good Omens (I read the book before I watched the show) before The Switch. So, yeah. This happened.
> 
> Edit (October 7, 2020): I used Armageddon't here 'cause it sounded better but personally I prefer Abotchalypse.

“Well,” Aziraphale said as he locked up the bookshop behind him. Crowley felt the adrenaline falling out of his system - barring Armageddon’t bathing in holy water had been one of _the_ most nerve-wracking things he’d done in his whole 6000 years. He could tell Aziraphale was getting caught up too; the angel’s shoulders were drooping, and he wasn’t even looking at his beloved books. Even the food they’d had at the Ritz hadn’t had much of an effect, it seemed.

“Well what?” He said.

“Well nothing,” Aziraphale said. He rolled his shoulders. “May I take my wings out?”

“I don’t see why not,” Crowley said. He was too tired to argue. “Don’t mind if I do the same?”

“Oh, of course not. It’s just, they’ve been itching all day,” Aziraphale said. He shook out his wings as they spawned into existence. “Ahhhh.”

Crowley had been about to say “That’s funny. Now that you bring it up, mine have been too” but he was staring in shock at Aziraphale’s wings.

The angel stared back at him. “What, what is it? Oh, are my feathers ruffled?”

“No, no nothing angel,” Crowley said hastily, holding his hands up in the general ‘don’t come any closer’ position. “Everything’s fine.”

Everything was not, in fact, fine. Aziraphale was an angel, a principality. He was kind, and good, and wonderful, and _nice_. There was no way-

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said suddenly. He reached out, his face sad, then realized that Crowley probably didn’t want to be touched.

“Whatttt, angel, what isssss it?” Crowley said. He was aware he sounded impatient and his hiss was coming out, but he really couldn’t help it. “Tellllll me,” He insisted.

“It’s just,” Aziraphale said. He reached out again, and Crowley let him. The angel brushed his fingers over his feathers. “Your wings,” He said sorrowfully.

“My wingssss?” Crowley said incredulously. “Angel, yourssss-” He stopped himself.

“Mine?” Aziraphale said, sounding surprised. “Crowley, yours are the concern here!”

“Whattttt do you meannnnn?” He said. He twisted around to try and see them. He hadn’t even felt himself popping them out. “Oh.”

“ ‘Oh’!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “That’s all you can say?! Crowley, this is unheard of before-!”

“I sssssuppose you sssshould ssee yoursss, then,” Crowley said, shoulders and wings drooping. He gestured. “Go on, then.”

“Mine?” Aziraphale said again. He twisted around too. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Crowley agreed.

“I suppose that would make sense on how we both survived,” Aziraphale said.

“I ssssuppose ssso,” Crowley said back.

“Are they opposite?” Aziraphale asked. “I mean, yours-”

“Yesssss, I believe ssssso,” Crowley said, putting away his wings.

There was a moment where they were both quiet. “Well,” Aziraphale said, tucking away his own wings, “I don’t suppose this is where I say we could do with a bit of rest?”

Crowley held out his hand. “Cominggggg, angel?”

Aziraphale took it, smiling. “Don’t mind if I do, Crowley.”

Together, they proceeded to the back of the shop, where Aziraphale made himself a cup of cocoa and Crowley nothing, because the demon didn’t eat or drink much, but not before asking, certainly. He then sat on the sofa with a book, and Crowley laid down with his head in Aziraphale’s lap. He handed his sunglasses to the angel, who put them next to his cocoa, because the temples dug painfully into his mastoids, and, more importantly, into Aziraphale’s thighs. They stayed like that for hours.

Because now, they were neither of Heaven or Hell; because Aziraphale had half-fallen and Crowley had half-risen; and because they were, as always, on their own side.

**Author's Note:**

> (From your point of view, so if you're looking at them) Crowley has a black left wing and a white left wing while Aziraphale has a white left wing and black right wing. So, they are both technically part of Hell and Heaven, while being affiliated with neither, because they are both on their 'own side'.


End file.
